


Men in Robes

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Men in Black (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-05
Updated: 2008-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Charlie fights alien invaders. As you do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men in Robes

**Author's Note:**

> Fusion with Men in Black because why not. Written for merry_smutmas 2007. Who even knew I was still in HP fandom in 2007?

Roger Davies was loitering around the water cooler again. "I read _The Prophet_ this morning -- I get it owled here special, I told you that before -- and they were talking about isolating the magical gene. It's really pretty amazing the research being done these days, what with the advancements in Arithmancy. But you know what I think? I agree with _The Quibbler_ \-- I get that, too, it costs a nice Knut but I think it's worth it to keep up with current events. Anyway, Xenophilius Lovegood says that the magical gene is _alien_ derived. From outer space?"

"Another conspiracy theory?" Charlie rolled his eyes at Davies. "I'm telling you that even if the magical gene came from aliens, there is no way any of us would ever know that, especially not batty old Xeno. Trust me; he lives down the road from my parents and I know how out of his mind he is. Now stop lazing around and get outside to tame a dragon. Or have you forgotten the job I hired you for?"

Davies was typically a good worker and he'd been with Charlie for years, but sometimes that pampered Hogwarts attitude seeped into the job. That was the problem with hiring British. Charlie came from hearty stock, but that wasn't true of a lot of Hogwarts graduates. They expected food to magically appear, to have their beds made for them, as though every magical job had house-elves, even years and years after they'd discovered how difficult life was on the outside. Durmstrang students were better on the working front, but poor conversationalists. And the day a Beauxbatons student showed up in Romania ready to shovel dragon dung and head off to the burn unit on a regular basis, Charlie would eat his dress robes.

In short, Charlie was sick of his staff, sick of supervising a bunch of slackers. In short, Charlie had been in the same field for twenty-five years and he felt old and, worse, _bored_. Dragon taming was a young man's game, and he didn't know how much longer he could do it, but the idea of doing _paperwork_ all day long was as unpleasant as an ice cold bath on a December day.

*

When Charlie finally got back to his rooms late that night, he was beat. All he wanted was a decent cuppa, a hot shower, and a good night's sleep. He should have supposed that would be too much to ask.

He'd managed a quick piss and a teeth cleaning before that all went to shit. "Charles Weasley?" drawled a voice from inside his room. _Inside_ the room that was charmed as tightly as the new Ministry-sponsored prison; he knew that for a fact because Bill had worked on both.

Instantly, Charlie's wand was out.

"Quick on the draw," the intruder said, sounding supremely bored. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"All right, then tell me why you are here," Charlie said, not lowering his wand an inch.

The intruder wordlessly lit the lamps surrounding Charlie's walls. He was younger than Charlie, thin, very fair, very blond and had a bit more forehead than he'd probably had ten years earlier. A Malfoy. Charlie racked his brain: Draco, the son, the one Ron hated and saved. He'd certainly heard that story enough over Christmas, once the initial shock of Fred's death had worn off and they could all talk about the last battle with something approaching reminiscence.

Draco unrolled a length of parchment and cleared his throat. "Have you ever considered work in The Ministry of Magic, Charles Weasley?" he read in a monotone. "If so, have we got an opportunity for you. Welcome to the exciting new world of --" Draco suddenly tilted his head to one side. "No, I _cannot_ give it more inflection, would you just let me complete this task so I can get back to London? Thank you."

Charlie couldn't see his own face, but he couldn't imagine it looked anything but incredulous and angry. And confused. Really confused. "Who are you talking to? What the hell are you up to?"

"Listen, Weasley," Draco said with a sigh, "I was sent here by the Ministry and the head of my department wants to know if you'd be interested in a career change. We've found ourselves without a magical creatures expert and you come highly recommended. It's one trip that will save my skin, and if you don't want it, we'll compensate you for travel. I can't give any details here, or I'd have to kill you."

"Hey, wait."

Draco smirked. He was a good-looking bloke even with the lack of hair and that smile gave away that he was perfectly aware of it. "That was a joke. But there would be memory charms. So are you up for adventure?"

If Charlie hadn't been contemplating career changes just that day, Malfoy would have been cursed into the ground, genius at breaking through security charms or not. But as it so happened it was Malfoy's lucky day.

"Yeah," said Charlie with a shrug. "Why the hell not?"

"Fantastic," Draco said, back to the monotone. "You have ten minutes to pack, and then we're getting the first Portkey to England."

*

Ten minutes later, Charlie was carrying a bag over one shoulder and sharing hand space with Malfoy on a broken Muggle curling iron. The key yanked at his stomach, as usual, and Charlie was launched into the familiar nausea associated with long-distance travel. He never did that well with Apparition or Portkeys, one of the reasons he didn't visit home nearly as often as his mother would have liked.

Charlie managed to stay upright on the landing. A small relief considering Malfoy's posture was perfect, as though he'd never moved at all. But _where_ they landed? Now that was strange.

"Special clearance," Malfoy said. If that was supposed to explain anything, it failed miserably.

The _where_ was a long, brightly lit room with three rows of desks and whitewashed walls. Flapping memos covered the entire ceiling, patiently waiting to be read, and every person at every desk was dressed in plain black robes and dark glasses. When Charlie glanced over at Malfoy again, he too had put on the same glasses and Charlie now noted his robes matched.

"Welcome to MIR Headquarters, Weasley."

A tiny _pop_ of Apparition behind them made Charlie whirl around. The man was nice-looking, sort of round all over with a pleasant smile and medium brown hair, and dressed identically to everyone else in the room. "Hi, Charlie!" he greeted cheerfully, pulling off his glasses.

" _Neville_?" This was getting weirder by the second. Neville Longbottom had been friends with Charlie's youngest brother for years, was even godfather to his son, but last Charlie had checked he'd been the Herbology professor over at Hogwarts, not a Ministry employee.

"Yeah, hey," Neville said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Thanks for going along with Malfoy. I would have been on retrieval, but we had an emergency up at the school and I couldn't get away. But Draco's an all right bloke if you give him a chance."

Draco made a sound suspiciously like a snort, but even Charlie could tell he didn't really mind.

"Anyway, you'll be much more involved with him than me anyway, so probably better in the long run, right? Right!"

Charlie's head hurt.

"Can I get you anything? Pumpkin juice, tea?" Neville asked. "I know how Portkey travel can be." He mimicked tripping over his own feet.

"Uh, tea would be great," Charlie said, and a second later a cup appeared in his hands, sweetened and lightened to his exact preferences.

"Great! Okay, I'll just take care of your bag --" The weight on Charlie's shoulder disappeared. "-- And we'll be on our way then. If Malfoy wants anything, he can conjure it his own damned self because he has clearance."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Malfoy protested.

Neville chucked Malfoy in the shoulder. "Like hell you weren't."

Charlie followed Neville and Malfoy down a corridor as sterile and brightly lit as the main office, until they reached a Gothic wooden door that didn't go along with the other decor at all. In fact, it reminded Charlie of the old Potions dungeons at Hogwarts, kind of intimidating and dank. Weird contrast. Everything about this place was weird.

Neville put his hand to the door ("It's like a password, only even more secure because we can specify levels of clearance") and it swung open.

The resemblance inside the room didn't stop Charlie being reminded of Potions, not the bookshelves lining the walls, the overflowing and bubbling cauldrons, the dim lighting, or Severus Snape sitting behind a gigantic oak desk. Severus Snape, who to the best of Charlie's knowledge, had been killed by Voldemort almost twenty years ago. It seemed like the best of Charlie's knowledge was kind of crap.

"Close your mouth, Weasley, unless you plan on using the flies as potion ingredients," Snape said, putting down his quill.

Neville patted Charlie on the back sympathetically. "I know this all has to be confusing for you."

"Confusing?" Charlie asked. "That's a fucking understatement, Neville. I thought you were an Herbology teacher, Snape was dead, and Malfoy was whatever rich boys became once they grew up. I don't know what you want with me, but I _do_ want some answers."

Neville laughed and leaned against Snape's desk. "Fair enough. Sit?" He pointed his wand at two armchairs across the room and pulled them up to Snape's desk for Charlie and Draco. Charlie sat and took a sip of his tea because that was what he was expected to do and he was raised right. "I suppose this would be a good time to say this is entirely my fault."

"Your fault," Charlie echoed blankly. "Excuse me for saying so, but I find that a little difficult to believe."

"No, I'm telling the truth, cross my heart and hope to die, stick a talon in my eye." Neville drew an X over his heart and everything. "About twelve years ago, I'd just taken over for Sprout full time in the Herbology department and it was sort of an experimental time for me. I wasn't married yet and any time that school wasn't in session, I'd be out in the greenhouses, messing about with new clippings or cross-pollinating breeds. I bought seeds from really disreputable types, sometimes won in card games, and grew them with no actual sense of self-preservation. Long story short, I ended up with two great discoveries: a new strain of sopophorous bean that had use beyond sleeping potions and a plant from outer space."

Charlie's jaw dropped open. "Wait, what?"

"Yes, I know!" Neville said, flailing his hands wildly. "The new sopophorous bean was excellent; I noticed that if I put it next to wilting leaves, the plants would look like they'd died but the next day be lush and green as ever -- _more_ , actually and so instead of just a living death draught I knew it was something that actually cheated d--"

"No, I meant the alien plant."

Snape snorted. "Longbottom is telling you he found a way to raise the dead and you're more concerned over a visitor from another planet? Priorities, Weasley."

"It's all a lot to take in, Professor," Charlie said, amiably as he could manage. Snape hadn't liked Weasleys as a general rule, but Charlie hadn't been as much of an overachiever as Bill and less out to prove himself as Gryffindor while he was at school, so he'd always gotten on with Snape well-enough. He could see that that tolerance might be tested here.

"It's okay, Severus," Neville said, flashing a grin at Snape over his shoulder. "Anyway, when Professor Slughorn learned about my discoveries -- completely not by my choice, I might add, but Horace always was a terribly nosy man -- he insisted that he show me the last letter Severus had ever written. Severus hadn't wanted to die, had only done so because he thought he'd had to, so when it was suggested I dabble in necromancy, I...I have to confess I was interested. Like I said, experimental time for me." Neville ducked his head.

Draco cleared his throat. "No more sob stories, Longbottom. That's long over."

"So, yes, we brought Severus back to earth because his death had left his body well-preserved and his soul was willing to return to his body. But then we had to keep his life a secret because Voldemort's name had just begun to be forgotten by the public and Harry had honored Severus's memory very well. It seemed disrespectful."

"Also, I wanted to be left alone," Snape interjected.

Neville chuckled. "Yes, there was also that. But luckily there was the matter of the plant from outer space."

"Luckily," Draco echoed faintly.

"The plant I won in a round of gillyweed rummy turned out not to be a mutated Venomous Tentacula at all, but rather part of an envoy of alien life that had been sent to the magical world to warn us. It was purely by coincidence that it got to me, and that I was in a position to do anything about it. In later years, we learned that Og -- that's his name, of course, he still works in the central agency here -- was the only survivor of the mission. The group were rebels."

Charlie felt something like anger bubbling in his stomach. It was enough that people were raising the dead and alien plants, but to keep all of this secret, away from the public was just _sketchy_. He gripped hard on the armrests to his chair until his knuckles turned white.

"I know what you're thinking, Charlie, and it's understandable," Neville said. "But it's secret for a reason. I'm sure you've read the news about the extraterrestrial elements that have been isolated in the magical gene?"

"Yes, Davies was telling me about that just this morning."

"Well, it's all true. We did result from human and alien blood mixing hundreds of thousands of years ago. And remember what I also said about Voldemort's name disappearing from the public?"

Charlie nodded.

"That news also reached a tiny planet orbiting a star the Muggles call Proxima Centuri. With our war behind us, the heavens were indicating a long period of peace and flourishing life here. No Dark Lords for ages, in other words. While on their planet resources were depleting and they were warring; some wanted to work cooperatively with us because of our close relations with them, others wanted to defeat us. Needless to say, the more peaceful contingent lost. Our Og was one of them. And this is where Severus comes in."

Snape nodded. "Longbottom worked with the Ministry in secret. Everyone decided that it would be better if the illusion of peace could be maintained from the outside, with Potter at the figurehead." Next to Charlie, Draco let out an almost inaudible sigh. Snape continued, "I was placed in charge because of my desire to be left alone and dead to the world, and because I am a capable individual, where Longbottom is not."

"Hey!" Neville protested mildly, though there was no heat in it. "Also, I still had Hogwarts to consider. Draco was recruited by Severus not long after the agency was set up. So, he's been with us nearly eleven years now?"

"Just about," Draco agreed.

" _Draco_ ," Snape interrupted, "was recruited because he was squandering his inheritance and gallivanting the world with his wife and young son, and while there is nothing wrong with family togetherness, I did not risk and lose my life for his worthless hide for him to turn around and waste what was handed to him."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You might say I agreed with some persuasion."

"And he teamed up with our second recruit, magical creatures expert, Rubeus Hagrid."

"Hagrid was your partner?" Charlie said with a laugh. "A half-breed and a Malfoy, fighting crime together?"

"It wasn't so bad," Draco mumbled.

Neville grinned. "They worked surprisingly well together. But even with the giant blood lengthening his lifespan beyond the average wizard's, he's still almost ninety now, if you can believe that. He retired a month ago, and your name came up when we met with MLE."

"MLE?" Charlie asked. "Magical Law Enforcement? _Hermione_ knows about this?"

"Suggested you, in fact," Neville said. "Couldn't think of a more competent brother-in-law. So, what do you say, Charlie? Want to be a Man in Robes? You'll get really cool sunglasses and a partner with a stick up his arse, plus many other perks if you agree, such as adventure, your life constantly in danger, erratic working hours, and protecting the earth from alien attack."

Charlie looked down at his cup of cold tea like it was really, really interesting. He didn't know if he could deal with a crotchety dead boss and a stuck-up partner, and this was all a little hard to believe for the middle of the night but, hell, he was a _wizard_. The impossible made possible had been his entire life. Plus, his Gryffindor streak was running rampant and by the time he looked back up to Neville's beaming face and Snape's sneer, he was already nodding. "Yeah, I'm in. Let's kick some alien arse."

"Great!" Neville clapped his hands. "Let's get you suited up and into the field, W."

*

Draco led Charlie back down the corridor again, which automatically opened into a longer corridor, leading to another corridor and then another and another. Retracing his steps would have been nearly impossible, if the maze would have even been the same going back the other way.

"Did you have any questions, W?" Draco asked.

"Well, _yeah_ ," Charlie said, like Draco was dumb. God, who wouldn't have questions in a situation like this? "But first things first: where's my stuff and why did you and Neville call me W?"

"Everyone gets assigned an agent letter. It's not like we don't know each other's names, but when we're out in the field, it stops enemies from readily identifying us and our families if we're down to one letter. Not like that flame beacon hair of yours doesn't give you away."

Charlie snorted. "Look who's talking."

They took another left turn, revealing another identical corridor.

"So what are you?" Charlie asked. "Big D?"

Draco sneered. "Show some respect to your superior. I am Agent M, just as you are Agent W. It's not a complicated system, but it works. Your possessions are fine. They've been transported to a guest room; we all have homes of our own, but our positions sometimes necessitate us staying at the agency. You'll be shown there later."

They stopped in front of another door, this one more in line with the decorating scheme, all glass and chrome. It was unlike anything Charlie had ever seen in the wizarding world, though the Muggles used them frequently. Automatic doors -- Charlie remembered his father being fascinated with them in the past. Draco pressed his hand to the middle and they pulled away to each side.

"This is the Central Agency," Draco explained.

Another sterile white room, though smaller than the main room Charlie had first been brought to. Plus, this one had a giant green plant with a giant mouth and giant teeth sitting in the middle of it.

"And this is Og." Draco waved at the plant, and the plant waved back. Charlie fought not to find all of it pretty adorable.

"New partner?" a high voice asked, and it only belatedly occurred to Charlie that it was the plant who was talking. Geez, what had Neville _done_?

Draco nodded. "Yes, Hagrid's replacement. He's a dragon expert, and had the highest N.E.W.T. scores in Care of Magical Creatures in the last century."

"I did?" Charlie asked. "I had no idea."

"You weren't just chosen for your good looks, W," Draco shot back. "He needs to get suited up, plus identification clearance and a wand."

" _M_ , I already have a wand," Charlie protested.

Draco brushed that right off. "You need a new wand. One of the funniest things about working for MIR, actually, now that I mention it. The magical world -- the one on the outside -- makes such a big deal out of wandmaking. You think your wand from Ollivander's or wherever fits you perfectly? I used to think that, too, like you wouldn't even believe. But just wait until you have one from the very lifeforms that made you magical. It's not only an extension of your arm, it's _better_ than your arm. It's a second brain or heart."

Og cleared his...throat? and waved a...tentacle? leaf? and Charlie was suddenly out of his old dragon-burnt robes and outfitted from head-to-toe in black, a new wand clutched in his right hand. Glasses that didn't darken the room but improved his vision -- he hadn't even known his vision needed improving -- appeared on his face, complete with complicated readouts in the periphery.

"Whoa," Charlie said. "That's different."

"If you don't like what you've signed up for, I'll erase your memories of tonight and send you right back where you started. You'll think you fell asleep early because you were exhausted. There's still time, W."

Charlie shook his head hard. "No, I'm in."

"Please test your wand, Charles Weasley," Og said formally. Charlie gave it a shake and a shower of gold sparkles arced out across the length of the room, dissipating into a downward drifting multicolored rainbow. Malfoy had been right about the new limb feeling of the wand; he knew now that whatever he'd been doing all of these years hadn't been _magic_ , like how a conjured copy was never as perfect as the original. Charlie looked at his hand in amazement.

Og rustled a few leaves. "Good fit," the plant told him. "Ready for field work. Next assignment is scouting new visitors for possible hostility. They are from a planet neighboring mine, hard to tell alliance."

"Are the suits part of the welcoming committee uniform?" Charlie asked.

"No, they're magically repellent, specifically tailored for you," Draco said. "The uniform aspect is a happy coincidence." There was a bit of sarcasm in Draco's use of happy. "So, Weasley, ready to head into the field?"

"Is it dangerous?"

"Think of it as a training exercise for babies."

Charlie shrugged and adjusted his glasses. "Let's go."

Og waved all his leaves when they left. Charlie was kind of fascinated; he couldn't wait to get a closer look at him, but settled for a wave of his own. Draco led him back to the hallway and after two turns, the main room was in sight again.

"So, Hagrid was your partner for eleven years?" Charlie asked too casually, sliding a mischievous glance in Draco's direction.

Draco grimaced. "Severus was really unhappy with me. Let it be known that man can hold a grudge."

*

" _This_ is field research?" Charlie asked, looking around and shaking his head. "This is The Leaky Cauldron. It's a pub, how Muggles pass into the magical world not a training ground."

"You answered your own question, W," Draco said with a smirk. "If it acts as a hub for Muggles, who's to say it isn't a hub for everyone?"

Charlie shook his head. "Ridiculous. Everything here keeps getting more and more insane."

"Yes, one might think that magic was real, the way we're acting."

Draco sauntered over to the bar and sat down, spinning his barstool to face out at the crowd. Charlie hesitated for a moment and then did the same. The bartender placed two drinks on the bar in front of their seats, even though they hadn't ordered anything.

"Tom is great help to us," Draco explained. He folded his glasses and put them in his front pocket. "All right, I'm leaving this to you. In the periphery of your glasses, there should be readouts being given like a Quick Quotes Quill for any known entities."

Charlie scanned the room, watching as script like _hag_ , _part-giant_ , and _wizard_ scrolled across his vision. Nothing he couldn't tell.

"Seeing anything odd?"

 _Werewolf, witch - Ministry employee_ , nothing. "Nothing? No read-out?" The bloke looked rather normal, greyish skin and garish purple robes aside.

"Not bad, W. You've found our arriving friend -- any identified creatures, of this or any other world will give some sort of read. Now we have to determine his distinguishing characteristics of origin, magical creatures expert, along with whether or not he is a hospitable or hostile life form."

The arriving friend was pulling a wand from his robes and pointing it right at Charlie and Draco.

"Hostile, I'd say," Charlie said, eyes wide. A blast emitted from the end of the visitor's wand.

"Shit," Draco said, fumbling in his robes and pulling something that looked like a penknife out.

A blast emitted from the end of the visitor's wand.

"M! Look out!" Charlie yelled, diving to shove Draco out of the way, just as Draco clicked the top of his knife or whatever it was. And time stood still.

No, it literally did. Draco's device had stopped everyone but Charlie and him. Charlie was sprawled out on top of Draco, who'd been knocked flat on his back. Above them a green beam of light was frozen, its trajectory aimed at a wall, not toward his partner or an innocent bystander.

"It slows time down to manageable levels. Severus developed it," Draco said. His voice squeaked a little and his breathing was very heavy. Charlie hadn't moved. "We can capture more effectively this way."

"I'd gathered the theory, yes," Charlie said. He still didn't roll off Draco, just pulled back a little and he and Draco got stuck in some sort of staring contest where time was at a standstill.

Except that it really was, so.

"Thank you," Draco said after a few moments of this.

"You're welcome," Charlie said, rolling away finally. He sent a sideways glance in Draco's direction, watching as Draco pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off in a very refined manner. His pale skin held two spots of colour high on his cheeks.

"So, that was a careful analysis of the situation. Now we detain the intruder," Draco said, shrugging his shoulders and not looking at Charlie. He sighed. "Training exercises usually aren't exciting at all. You lucked out."

Charlie concealed a grin. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

*

Collection and booking had taken twice as long as training, and even with the adrenaline boost that the attack had given Charlie, it still had been an incredibly long day. Even if he still was wired, it seemed like a good idea to give himself some time to finally let everything sink in properly.

The Portkey from the newly designed Ministry prisons back up to MIR's boarding suites was short, Draco only leading him down two corridors on the way. Draco seemed...jaunty, up in a way he hadn't been most of the night.

"You know, you're an all right person, Weasley." There were a row of doors lining this hallway, with regular doors and namecards.

Charlie smiled. "Back to full names?"

"They're fine when we're here." He stopped in front of a door labeled WEASLEY. "This is you; hand password identification should already be active."

Sure enough, when Charlie pressed his palm to the center of the door, it swung open on its hinges. "Thanks for everything, M. Er, Draco." He laughed and leaned against the door jamb. "It's been an experience, but I think it would have been even more surreal without your help."

"It's nothing," Draco said, waving his hand. "Thank you for moving me out of the way back there. Partnerships aren't all bad."

"Never thought so," Charlie replied.

He was about to take a step inside the room, but Draco suddenly caught his wrist.

"Wait," Draco mumbled. He leaned in, pressed his lips to Charlie's, and Charlie rolled with it, stood as still as possible for a few moments, then pulled away. So he hadn't been reading the signals in The Leaky Cauldron or since wrong. Charlie was rarely wrong about that sort of thing. He smiled politely.

"Good night," Charlie said, still pleasant. Then he started to close the door. Draco put a hand up, stopping it in its path.

"Wait," he said again, with more emphasis. "I am many things, Weasley, but I'm not an idiot. You are -- I mean, I'm usually good at knowing when a man is--" Draco tilted his head to one side, possibly doubting himself.

Charlie sighed. "No, those signals were right; even my mum has given up there. So were the ones where I think you're an attractive bloke and where I'm single. But you're married. I don't know what kind of sexual crisis you're going through, and it's really none of my business, but I'm not in the habit of breaking up families, you know? And if we do anything, it becomes my business. I'd rather it not, so thank you."

"Married?" Draco repeated. "I thought you said you read the newspapers from this area."

"Davies reads them to me. He's my personal newsman," replied Charlie.

Draco laughed. "Davies doesn't keep you filled in on the gossip, Weasley. I'm not married. I'm divorced, after fulfilling my end of a bargain that would provide a very lovely woman who is one of my dearest friends with an heir, especially because I also benefit from the situation. I love my son very much, don't be mistaken at all about that, but he is eleven now and we couldn't maintain the lie forever. Especially the one that painted me as someone who is attracted to the opposite sex."

"Really?" Charlie asked incredulously.

"Yes, really. The society pages have been all over us for weeks; too bad this has been so amicable that they've had almost no vulture fodder whatsoever."

Charlie laughed.

"So, are you going to invite me inside?"

"Yes," Charlie said, "or I would if I got involved with my coworkers. Sorry, M." He started to close the door again.

Draco smirked, pressed his hand to the middle of Charlie's chest and sent him tumbling back into his room. The door closed behind them on its own. "I suppose I failed to mention to...anyone...that I'm giving my notice once your training is complete?"

Charlie's eyes widened. "What, you can't..."

"I can," Draco said, another gentle shove sending Charlie back another few steps. "I spent the first half of my life pleasing my father and mother, then a large chunk trying to repay Severus for all he had done for me." Another push. "I'm _tired_ , Weasley --"

"Charlie. Call me Charlie. There are a lot of Weasleys."

Draco smiled, and pushed once more. The backs of Charlie's knees hit a utilitarian bed. He sat, and Draco straddled his thighs. "Fine, _Charlie_. I'm tired, and it's about time that I started living my life for me instead of anyone else. I want time for myself, time to learn about my son as he grows up, instead of as we run from place to place avoiding and attracting media attention. After tonight, I'm pleased that Longbottom chose you. You might be replacing Hagrid, but I have no doubt about your ability to swiftly climb these ranks."

"I don't know about all of that," Charlie said, trying to remain coherent with a lapful of Malfoy. His hands moved to Draco's hips.

"Of course you do," Draco said, leaning down to murmur directly into Charlie's ear. "You're being trained by the best."

Charlie laughed. He'd had some surreal days, surreal _weeks_ even, but this hands-down topped them all. There was a 'be careful what you wish for' lesson in here somewhere, but Charlie could no longer be fussed about it.

Draco wrapped his long fingers around the back of Charlie's neck, and leaned back, arching one eyebrow. "Any other objections?"

"None," Charlie admitted. He tilted up his chin, and Draco took what was offered, leaning down to kiss Charlie's waiting mouth. There was a bit of awkwardness involving noses and also the way kissing never quite works the first time you do it with someone, but neither of them was new to this. Charlie soon felt his eyes sliding shut and his mouth falling open, a moan working its way out of his throat.

Draco's tongue in his mouth was hot and precise, stroking against Charlie's with an accuracy that made Charlie's head spin. He tried reciprocating, and did a pretty fine job of it, thanks very much, licking at Draco's lips and touching his tongue to the corner of Draco's mouth.

They both went to work on each other's robes at the same moment, Draco having far more luck than Charlie in working the MIR-issued robes. It was impressive; they were rocking against each other, enough to be seriously distracting, and Draco had gotten Charlie's robes pushed down to his shoulders while Charlie was still fumbling on Draco's first clasp.

"There's a trick," Draco mumbled against Charlie's mouth, voice breathless and broken. He pulled away just long enough to reach into his collar and unhook something. Then one tug from Charlie and everything fell open, easy as anything.

Draco stood and let the robes pool at the floor at his feet, even did the favour of stepping out of his Ministry-issued trousers and leaving him only in his pants. Then he lost those too. Undressing was another strange phenomenon with someone new, but Charlie stared at Draco as he lay back on the bed and shimmied out of his own things, leaving him stretched out on his back and beckoning to Draco to join him.

"I love this part," Draco confessed.

Charlie laughed. "Me too. Who wouldn't?"

Draco got back onto the bed, groaning a bit as he straddled Charlie's legs. "I'm a bit sore from earlier. Not as young as I used to be."

"Oh, shut up," Charlie said, tugging on Draco's shoulder until their faces were close together. "What are you? Thirty-five?"

"Thirty-six," Draco corrected with a sigh. " _Old_."

Charlie snorted, running a hand down Draco's arm and reaching between them to tweak a nipple. Draco let out a little gasp. "You know, you're bordering on insulting the older bloke who wants in your pants. Don't write off the sixty or so years you've got left. Time to start living right?" Charlie pushed up his hips, making them both moan.

"Did you want to fuck me like this?" Draco asked.

Charlie exhaled, hard. "Well, yeah, was planning on it."

Draco smirked and any protests he might have had about his supposed inflexibility fell flat when his knees gripped tight to Charlie's hips and he leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve his wand, not missing a beat as he cast charms to slick and stretch.

There was a bit of fumbling as Draco tried throwing aside his wand and reaching between his legs to get at Charlie's cock, but Charlie batted his hands away and gripped himself at the base, lining up and letting Draco sink down. And that --

" _God_."

\-- worked really well.

Draco didn't seem to have any problems leading the action, setting the pace and leaning forward to give himself a proper angle, giving Charlie not much to do other than steer. Not that Charlie minded; he liked being ridden hard and put away wet, and what Draco was _doing_ was as mind-blowing as finding out that wizards had been fighting off an impending alien invasion for the last decade. Better to steer when his brain was five minutes from dribbling out of his ears.

"Touch me," Draco instructed, a whispered order as he stretched himself over Charlie and bit his ear. _Shit_ , Charlie had a thing about his ears, being bitten and licked, just like Draco was doing right then, _behind_ his ear. Charlie's leg jerked of its own accord, and he tried to gather enough of himself back to wrap his hand around Draco and stroke.

Draco swore and moved faster, Charlie matching the speed with his hand and hips, and age or exhaustion be damned, it was one of the best times Charlie could remember in a long time, gasping and unraveling slowly as Draco rose and fell, breathless and aching above him. He found himself coming almost as a surprised pleasure, moments before Draco followed carelessly all over Charlie's stomach, collapsing in a panting, sweaty mess together.

They stayed that way for several minutes, Charlie curling his fingers in the damp hair at Draco's neck. He wondered which one of them would say anything first.

As it turned out, it was him, finally clearing his throat to break the silence.

"I suppose it'll be easier seeing you after you're out of the agency," Charlie mused. "It's exciting to save your life and then come back here to fuck, but I can see how that would quickly get complicated. I'll take you out on proper dates and really make the society pages talk."

Draco laughed. "Well, perhaps. But," he said, pausing, "do you know how one leaves Men in Robes?"

"Of course not!" Charlie exclaimed. "I'd never heard of it a day ago."

"There's a reason I keep mentioning memory charms, Charlie."

*

 _You just have to court me_ , Draco had told him. _I have faith in your ability_.

The day was sunny and warm, and Charlie Weasley was leaping over strutting albino peacocks and looking very dapper in dark glasses and black business robes. He ran a hand through his hair, banging the heavy door knocker.

A house-elf dressed in a clean, blue dress -- _free elf_ , said the peripheral vision readout -- answered and examined him with her huge eyes.

"May I speak with Draco Malfoy? I have a rather urgent manner."

She nodded and ushered him into the front hall, scurrying off. A minute or two later, Draco appeared, nose in the air and one eyebrow arched.

"Are you a Weasley?" he said with disdain.

In the fine print of the contract all Men in Robes sign, there was the following clause:  
 _All employees of Men in Robes are granted leave from their positions whenever their contracts are up for renegotiation after a certain term. As an agent, you must be willing to undergo memory modification when your time with the agency has ended. Memories not directly related to Men in Robes or their employees will not be affected._

"Yeah, I am. Charlie, to be exact." He grinned widely. "And I like a challenge. You look like someone who could use a cup of tea or a stiff drink."

Draco looked confused, but he wasn't hexing Charlie into the ground. Charlie took that as a good sign. "Do I..." Draco drew his eyebrows together. "Have we met before?"

"You could say that. You could also say that I'm someone who wants to take a single, gay father out for a drink. What do you say?"

"How did you..."

Charlie took off his glasses and tucked them inside his robes. "Let's just say we have our ways."


End file.
